


Piece of Cake

by Davechicken



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: It's... not what it looks like.





	

“It’s not what it looks like,” Baze blurts out, shoving his tablet under his pillow before he realises how _dumb that sounds_ when he says it to Chirrut of all people.   


And how Chirrut will never let him live it down. Ever.

And how if he’d just pretended everything was normal, the man would never know what he’d been reading in private. In his room. The door to which remained un-knocked-upon because the man forgot things like manners sometimes.

“What… does it look like, then?” his visitor asks, his lips curving upwards into a subtle smile.  


The kind of smile that does things to Baze’s insides. That bathes him in ridiculous glowing light, and reminds him over and over why he believes in the Force, and Light and Life and Love and everything else. 

Or just Chirrut.

“…it looks like I was… looking up…” What’s less embarrassing than the truth? “…cake recipes.”  


“It’s no one’s name day.”  


“I was hungry.”  


This is so ridiculous a lie that Chirrut’s shoulders wobble seismically, and he taps his staff to the small cot. “May I?”

Baze nods, and grunts a yes. He’s glad his friend can’t see he’s - uh - hard. Though it feels a little disloyal to conceal that, especially when he’s pretty much the reason for it. Then again, if Chirrut had _knocked_ , he might have been able to send him away, or pretend he wasn’t inside until he drifted off.

“Is there something you want to ask me?” the younger man says, his head tilted to ‘hear’ better (though it isn’t necessary), his sightless eyes fixed over nothing in particular.   


“Do you… like cake?”  


“I love cake, Baze.”  


“I mean… _not_ cake.” Damnit. This is not going well. He hadn’t got to the part where you learned how to smoothly seduce someone. He’d been interrupted in his research, and now he’s talking about baked goods and not asking the real question.

“I _love_ cake, if the cake is you.”  


You. Not… ‘yours’. You. Baze trembles, and turns to lean in close. Then he realises Chirrut can’t see, and tries to work out how you ask permission to kiss someone, but as ever he’s beaten to it by a twist of neck and the lightest icing-dust of another’s lips across his own.

It is much better than his reading suggested. Baze’s whole senses sing like he expects Chirrut always feels, and he takes the other man’s chin between finger and thumb, and repeats the gesture. They always learn better through practice, than by theory alone, and this is no different.


End file.
